


Naked

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Season/Series 04, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-25
Updated: 2004-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A small peek into Brian's life during his radiation.





	Naked

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

On one particular Wednesday evening, Brian and Justin sat in bed clad only in their underwear, relaxing after a particularly rough radiation treatment. Brian had spent most of the day hunched over the toilet, praying to some higher power that the next thing out of his mouth be his stomach.

Now, both men were enjoying the company, silence, and just general downtime of early evening. Brian was busy looking over some ad proofs that Cynthia had brought over earlier, while Justin immersed himself in an art history textbook.

Out of the blue, Justin felt the body next to his tense. 

"I visited you. Every day. Some nights I didn't even sleep, just sat in that fucking uncomfortable vinyl chair, staring at blindingly white walls."

"What?" To say that Justin was confused would be an understatement. 

"The smell was awful. The smell of people dying, people living. Medicine, piss, and latex all mixed into one. Every night I'd start at Babylon, drinking, drugging, fucking--trying to get as fucking wasted as I could so that I wouldn't have to be sober in that place. It never worked. As soon as I walked off that claustrophobic elevator, sobriety smacked me in the ass. There was no escape.

Some nights I couldn't even walk up to that door, couldn't bear to look in that window. There was never a night I could actually open the door. Smelling other people, anonymous people, dying and living sucks, but there's this distance, this gap. I knew as soon as I opened that damned door to room 417, whatever objectivity I was grasping onto would collapse. And if I managed to walk inside and breach that gap, the immensity of what I had done would kill me."

The loft grew silent once again. Over the course of his monologue, Justin had slowly come to realize that Brian was admitting to visiting him after the bashing. Not only visiting, but spending half of his life approximately 20 feet from Justin’s bedside. That stark hallway had become a sort of tomb for Brian, a place that represented death. Within that space, a large part of who he was had been tried, convicted, and sentenced to a life long term of guilt. And now, for the first time, Brian shed all his mantras and walls to lie completely bare before his partner.

Justin didn’t quite know how to respond. He wanted to tell Brian that he already knew, had always known really. The presence that had dominated his dreams--between the nightmares--was real. He had known that Brian was near. Everyday he had the same argument with his mother or any other visitor. They would just shook their heads, sadly reminding Justin that Brian would be Brian, and that expecting anything at all was expecting too much.

“That’s why I don’t want you to watch me go through this, don’t want you to hold my hand through all these appointments. Because there’s nothing you can really do, nothing but hurt vicariously. And that’s just no way to live life. I can’t let you live that life.”

Justin felt hazel eyes search his face. Not quite trusting his resolve, the blond remained staring at his book. He scanned the page before him, hoping to come across the appropriate words. Brian had never really expressed his fears so candidly. When the words became a wet blur, he knew it was a lost cause. There was nothing to say, nothing that wouldn’t sound lesbianic, cliché, or trite. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the older man, holding on for all he was worth. Soon enough, he felt the only arms that would ever matter to him return the embrace.

Kissing Brian’s cheek lightly, Justin softly whispered, “We only hurt because we love one another.”

Forgetting all previous activity, they both settled down beneath the duvet more naked now than ever before, despite the clothing each still wore. And as early evening turned to night, both men fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.


End file.
